


His Tiny Spark

by WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken



Series: We either make it, or break it. [23]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, First Meetings, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Murder, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken/pseuds/WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken
Summary: Minho has been locked up for way too long, awaiting his grim fate.But then Jisung is unlucky enough to find himself in the same situation.The boy makes Minho feel human again.However, It doesn't last and there's nothing either of them can do about it.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: We either make it, or break it. [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439083
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	His Tiny Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Part 23 of the Minsung series was supposed to be about Jisung murdering Minho (I don't make the rules, InoruMarufuji does) but then I came up with this and decided it was close enough. Killer Jisung will have to wait.
> 
> Rated M just to be safe (you know, death and all) and also not really proofread. Fuck that shit. I don't feel like doing it atm.
> 
> girl in red - watch you sleep

Minho can hear the faint buzzing of electricity and water in pipes, smell this faint dusty and mouldy smell, feel rough walls and floors and taste the remnants of stale bread on his tongue.

But he can’t _see_ anything.

The fabric around his eyes has long seized to actually be a bother, neither does it irritate his skin anymore. Maybe it does, but at least he has lost the ability to feel it. 

He used to feel it though. Despite it being ages ago, he can remember the shafting and the slightly raw patches on his temples. 

Minho had taken it off multiple times when he first got here, but it was no use because they’d tie it back around his eyes, mostly after beating him up. So now he just leaves it on. It’s not like seeing is going to make anything better anyways. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s there or not.

His back starts to hurt for real now and he shifts, leaning back against the wall and his legs spread out in front of him. It forces him to sit up straight and his back feels much better instantly, although he can never really get rid of that slight ache in his muscles.

Overall, everything is deteriorating. He can’t even remember the last time he had actually stood on his legs. He can if he wants to, but why would he? It won’t do anything.

It could have been days, weeks, _years_ … he doesn’t know.

It’s another thing in the big pile of unknown circumstances. Nothing is certain, nothing is really permanent. The people around him aren’t permanent. They come with tears and fear and go without a single word, mostly. Switching out every now and then. All but Minho, for some strange reason, and he kinda wishes that the next time he hears the door open he’ll get hauled to his feet and dragged out. 

Things are boring and stifling and he wants change in any way he can get it. Whether it be getting found or getting shot in the head. Everything is welcome at this point.

For the first time in forever, it seems like whomever is up there decides to take a little pity on him.

Like clockwork – although he doesn’t know the time and has also lost any sense of it – the door opens and there is a very familiar set of cries and pleas. It’s always the same.

‘’Let g-go of me,’’ a voice screeches and Minho guesses it’s another boy around his age. Not difficult to guess because when he had just gotten here, he had tried to make some small talk with the others he had felt in the room and found out that everyone is always around the same age.

Whomever puts them here definitely has a preference.

There is more yelling, more crying and then a big thud. The door closes again and Minho counts down, the new boy banging loudly on the slab of metal when he gets to zero. 

It’s always the same.

‘’G-get me out!,’’

Minho doesn’t talk. He has never done a lot of it and now even less. Like he has said before, in the beginning he had tried to, had tried to get someone to make him understand, but no one had been able or willing to enlighten him.

So he had stopped.

‘’P-please!,’’ the boy screams, his voice breaking as he keeps begging.

It grates at Minho’s nerves and his ears aren’t used to such loudness anymore, but there is also something very painful about the way the boy constantly threatens to choke on his sobs. Minho had done that before. Why had he? It had been of no use anyways.

At some point the sobbing turns into watery whimpers and scratching at the door. It reminds Minho of his cats – are they still alive? – whenever they try to get him to give them just that little bit of extra food. 

But this is no acting and Minho scrapes his throat.

‘’Stop,’’

It comes out as a strangled whisper but apparently the silence in the room is enough for the boy to hear him.

‘’H-hello?,’’ the boy replies with a hiccup, some shuffling telling Minho he’s trying to make his way over.

Minho feels a tinge of panic when trembling fingers carefully untie the knot at the back of his head, but then he realises it doesn’t matter. So what if they find him without his blindfold and beat the shit out of him? 

The fabric slips away from him and Minho actually has to force his eyes open. It’s a really hard task and he is baffled how it had been so easy to do before. People blink without even thinking about it, perfectly capable of doing so. Fascinating.

Surprisingly, there is a little bit of light in the room and it enables Minho to see his surroundings after the blurriness is gone. The walls are the same as he remembered and there are three other boys in the room, just like he had deducted from the different way they breathe.

They all look as lifeless as Minho feels, all slouched back into the walls or laying on the floor without any movement. 

It’s jarring… the fact that Minho doesn’t feel anything while observing them. 

He turns his head to his left and is met by shaggy brown hair, bright eyes sparkling with tears and big cheeks, one horribly bruised and swollen. Minho thinks the boy is at least a couple of years younger than him. He guesses about three or four, purely based on the whole vibe he gives off.

‘’I’m J-Jisung,’’ the boy mumbles when their eyes meet, sniffling and hiccupping and fiddling with his fingers.

‘’Didn’t ask,’’ Minho croaks out and he cringes hearing his own voice a little louder than before. It has been a while. 

It’s also been a while since Minho stopped doing names. They don’t matter here. He doesn’t even remember the names he had asked for when he got here.

~~The boy~~ Jisung mutters a small apology and apparently figures that Minho doesn’t really want to talk, pulling his knees up to his chest and munching at his lip. 

It’s already painfully raw to look at and Minho feels the need to scold the boy but he doesn’t. He isn’t a babysitter. 

It seems like Jisung is exhausted as he leans his head on his knees and Minho is surprised to hear soft breathing a little later. How the boy can sleep in a position like that, or in this situation, he doesn’t know but he also doesn’t care to find out.

Minho contemplates moving to the other side of the room because the boy is sitting way too close to him and it makes him want to scowl, but he is cold and Jisung seems to still have enough warmth in his body for it to reach Minho through his clothes.

That won’t last long.

Minho gives him about two weeks until that permanent frost in the bones sets in – that single showerhead in the corner blasting freezing cold water _only_ never helps - , shortly followed by aching joints and a resilient fatigue. Same goes for that tanned skin. That will be gone in a week, probably. 

Despite Minho’s troubles to have some actual sleep in this place, he does drift off long enough for him to wake up feeling like he has made a couple of hours in one go. Not that he gets to be somewhat happy with it – what even is happy? – because as soon as he shifts, he feels a hand in his, both resting on his thigh.

Minho pulls it back on instinct, something about the feeling of someone else’s skin on his foreign and somewhat gross after so long. Someone next to him makes a muted, displeased sound and Minho lazily rolls his head to look.

To be honest, he had totally forgotten about Ji… Ji…

What was his name again? Jisung? That sounds about right?

Anyways, the kid’s eyes are bloodshot and puffy and that bruise on his cheek seems to have grown even more in size, having creeped its way up to under his eye and down to his jaw. He feels the urge to reach out but he doesn’t. Instead he weakly rips his hand away from the younger and safely tucks it away.

‘’Don’t touch me,’’ Minho mumbles sleepily, his eyes threatening to slip closed again. 

Jisung shrinks in on himself and nods, hair flopping around and falling into his eyes, which are once again watering and spilling over. What’s he even crying for?

‘’S-sorry,’’ the boy stumbles, voice barely audible, ‘’I’m really scared,’’

The concept of being scared is a weird one. Minho isn’t scared. He doesn’t quite remember what it feels like. 

‘’Whatever,’’ he finds himself grumbling back and he rolls his head to the other side before closing his eyes again. His neck hurts from sleeping upright against the wall but laying down to actually sleep is always a dangerous thing. Once down, it’s more difficult to get himself up. 

Anyways, he tries to fall asleep again but the boy keeps shifting around and sniffling right next to him, clearly not knowing what to do with himself. Why he doesn’t get up and try to hammer at the door again like everyone else normally does and instead stays somewhat close, he doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t question it.

The shifting goes on, sometimes a shaky sigh or a sad whimper, and Minho will go crazy if the boy doesn’t stop and let him have some more shut-eye.

‘’Stop fucking doing that,’’ he says as he rolls his head to the boy again. 

Minho feels somewhat bad about the harsh tone, especially when Jisung pulls his shoulders up. He is close to apologizing but catches himself before he can. There’s nothing for him to apologize for anyways.

‘’C-can I please hold your hand?,’’ Jisung timidly asks after a moment of silence, clearly scared to even do so. 

Minho wants to say no because why the fuck would he do that? But then again, maybe it will stop the boy from annoying him even further, ‘’Only if you quit it with the noise,’’

The younger perks up a little and nods violently, swiping at his eyes with his sleeves. His sweater looks warm despite being a little roughed up. Meanwhile Minho is stuck here with a worn-out t-shirt. He guesses quite the amount of seasons must’ve passed.

Jisung is slow when he reaches out for Minho’s hand, so much so that the older rolls his eyes and grabs first. The boy startles a little but then there is a shy smile and he looks down. Minho decides to ignore the little tingling and lets their hands hang in between them.

Minho feels impossibly groggy. His neck is now screaming at him and he winces as he rolls his head, a nasty but very satisfying crack loud in his ears.

His hand is sweaty and he really wants to let go, but Jisung is snoring softly and holding onto his hand with an iron grip. An impressive feat for someone being asleep. He knows he can rip his hand away…

He doesn’t and hopes that the boy will wake up sometime soon.

Jisung does - right when Minho ends the seventh song in his head – and yawn sleepily, wincing a little when he clearly disturbs the bruise on his cheek with the action.

‘’Great, can you let go now?,’’ is the first thing Minho says when their eyes meet.

The younger’s eyes are still misted over by sleep and he blinks slowly like he isn’t quite on earth yet. It’s another thing that reminds Minho of his cats and with that he feels himself soften, making something like a cooing sound before he can stop it.

He only realises he has done so when Jisung’s blinking speeds up, a light flushing to his cheeks. 

‘’Man, my throat really itches,’’ Minho fakes some coughs after, like it’s actually true. 

But then he clearly hears something like a giggle coming from the boy. It’s a little muted and soft and Minho feels his face heath up. He can’t remember the last time that had happened. 

Jisung smiles a little again and Minho feels so caught that he’s actually _embarrassed._

Anyways, the moment passes and he pulls his hand out of the younger’s grasp, making a whole show of wiping his damp palm against his dirty jeans with a low groan. He’s pretty sure his face is still on fire as he leans back, but fortunately Jisung doesn’t comment on it. 

Not that he’d even have time to do so.

Because Minho can identify every little creak and other sound in the building and he hears a particular squeak coming from somewhere far away and he knows what that means.  
His fingers find the fabric that had been disregarded on his left and he’s quick to tie it back around his eyes.

‘’W-what are you doing?,’’ he hears Jisung rush out.

Ah. Right. The boy doesn’t know.

It’s not Minho’s problem but he finds himself ripping the fabric off again. He tries to look around the boy to see where his own shaggy blindfold has gone, but he spots it all the way at the door. He had probably taken it off as soon as the door had closed. There’s no way they can retrieve it before they come. Minho knows they have about eleven seconds left.

‘’Come here,’’ Minho commands and is already holding his own piece of fabric up to Jisung’s face.

Jisung looks at him with big, scared eyes, and recoils back, ‘’I don’t want to,’’

‘’You do. Trust me,’’ Minho deadpans. 

Those are pretty big words coming from someone the boy doesn’t even really know, but Minho is somewhat relieved when the boy bites his lip and nods slowly. He doesn’t miss the way the younger tenses when he wraps the fabric back over his eyes, neither is the muted whine quiet enough to go unnoticed. 

Minho is done right when the door swings open, a large figure stalking in with a stack of dry slices of bread and a couple of bottles of water in his arms. 

Jisung lets out a tiny sound and presses into Minho’s side, probably terrified he can’t see what is going on. It’s a little bit annoying but Minho has other things to be upset about, like how their ‘food’ gets thrown at his head and how the man barks in his face before roughly tying a new piece of fabric over his eyes, screaming at him about the consequences of not listening.

Minho doesn’t get beat up, which is new. He thinks it is probably because he has stopped fighting back anyways. It doesn’t mean anything to him when a foot lands in his stomach or a fist splits his lip open. It doesn’t do anything for anyone. 

Still, he sighs of relief when the door closes again and he hears footsteps fading away. He is quick to get the blindfold off again – why? – and carefully wraps it around his wrist to make sure he doesn’t lose it, ‘’You can take it off,’’

Jisung shakes his head and is trembling and clutching onto his jeans, knuckles strangely white. The poor boy is positively freaked out and will only continue to spiral if he stays like that, so Minho reaches out and hooks a finger around the fabric.

‘’No!,’’ the boy suddenly yells, frantically digging his fingers in Minho’s hand as he tries to pull them off.

‘’It’s okay. They won’t be back for a long time,’’ Minho shushes and despite the boy whimpering and shaking, he somewhat relaxes lets his hands fall next to him. 

It’s an odd display of trust and Minho feels oddly proud that Jisung is so quick to believe him. 

The older gets the blindfold off, slow in his movement as he wraps the strip of fabric around Jisung’s wrist.

The boy still has his eyes firmly closed by the time he’s done and Minho tells him it’s okay to open them, but Jisung is stubborn enough not to as he his head. It doesn’t come as a shock when Minho is reminded of his cats yet again, how they’d pretend to be asleep and ignore him. A simple and gentle tap to the nose always did the trick.

So he does the same, a playful tap, probably not appropriate for the setting at all. 

‘’Boop,’’ he softly says.

It seems to work when the boy scrunches his nose and carefully opens his eyes. There’s something confused there before Jisung smiles shyly.

The corners of Minho’s mouth tug up for the first time in a long while.

‘’There we go,’’

Time passes just like that and surprisingly, Jisung is quick to adapt. He doesn’t really cry anymore – Minho won’t mention the sniffles - , neither does he seem that disturbed when the door opens for either food or one of the boys in the room getting pulled out. 

Minho will ignore how no new boys seem to get pushed in and that is too unsettling.

Anyways, the older is somewhat proud of the boy, but there’s also something really sad about it. He decides he doesn’t like seeing the life in the boy’s eyes slip away right in front of him. 

Because he has concluded that Jisung has quickly grown on him, grown to be his tiny spark.

Jisung is warm in a place that is incredibly cold. His hands are surprisingly still warm also, so nice against his own cold-ones. 

That doesn’t mean Minho knows a whole lot about the boy, just that Jisung is chatty in nature and has no problem giving the older a ‘quick’ rundown of all the stupid things he has done in his life so far.

Minho’s favourite one is definitely the one about the beach and a dead fish. It kinda reminds him of home, of how his family would take trips to the beach or go to a lake to fish. He misses those things and he regrets not joining his parents on their last trip. 

Anyways, Jisung seems to grow more and more comfortable with him the more time passes – again, days? Weeks? – and Minho finds himself getting comfortable just as much, something he hadn’t seen coming.

Underneath the initial shy and fearful layer, Jisung is very sweet and outspoken and very, _very_ affectionate. Holding hands as they sleep is now the standard, one Minho had to grow to be okay with, but now he finds himself just as antsy as Jisung when they don’t. 

Every now and then things go further than that. Sometimes Jisung scoots closer and casually plops his head on Minho’s shoulder mid-conversation like it’s nothing. Technically it isn’t, but Minho’s face heats up nonetheless. 

Minho had once jokingly asked if the younger was a koala or something and Jisung ended up telling him about Felix - the boy’s best friend – and how the guy couldn’t even go one hour without either holding someone’s hand or cuddles.

‘’He must’ve rubbed off on me,’’ Jisung had giggled.

Maybe that conversation had let to a sea of tears and maybe Minho had actually reached out to hug the boy. He had come to find out that Jisung is quite nice to hug.

That becomes the new standard - getting wrapped up in each other before they doze off – and so does the gentle kiss he gives the boy’s still-healing-cheek.

It doesn’t take a whole lot for Minho to realise that the more they talk, the more he feels Jisung’s skin on his, the more Minho feels himself turning back into an actual human being.

That’s something he had long since lost and it’s a blessing and a curse at once. 

Like Minho has established, Jisung talks… _a lot._ It seems to get worse by the day. 

At first Jisung had shared stupid stories about himself but now he has progressed to sharing stupid stories about his friends. Minho isn’t anywhere close to being interested to hear about this Changbin-dude accidently locking himself inside whatever room he had been in, but Jisung’s eyes sparkle prettily while he talks so he’ll let it slide.

‘’And then Hyunjin got involved as well, screaming bloody murder as he jammed the lock with a screwdriver. Chan wasn’t too pleased with the damage he did with that thing,’’ the boy adds, 

They seem to spend most of their time just chatting away like that, in their own bubble and not really paying any attention to the room slowly emptying out. No new people get there and it's just the two of them now but Minho puts the unease aside.

Minho snorts, ‘’I actually ate special chocolates for cats once, because I was curious. All I remember from that is that they tasted pretty good,’’

Then he actually hears a timid laugh, ‘’You’re weird hyung,’’

One; He’d like to say that being locked away in a dark room for a really long time tends to do that to a person, but he had been four at the time of that incident so that excuse is off the table.

Two; Jisung is in no position to call Minho weird after telling such much about his own dumb endeavours. 

When they talk like that, things almost feel normal if Minho ignores everything but Jisung. Things are a bit easier, he can actually breathe properly and sleeping isn’t a torturous endeavour anymore.

‘’Hey Minho?,’’ Jisung asks after a while of silence, his legs slung over Minho’s thighs and head on his shoulder, ‘’How long have you been here?,’’

Minho’s back has starting to ache again and he shifts a tiny bit, Jisung leaning away to enable him to do so before snuggling close again, ‘’I don’t know,’’

‘’What do you mean you don’t know?,’’

‘’I just don’t know. Simple as that,’’ the older shrugs, ‘’How long do you think it has been since you came here?,’’

Minho wants to evade the topic as much as possible, but he’s too curious to hear what Jisung’s guess is.

‘’I’m pretty sure it has been about two weeks? That’s my guess, give or take a couple of days,’’

For Minho it feels way shorter and he comes to the conclusion that his inner clock is indeed fucked up. If almost two weeks feel like two days… he’s certain he has been here for way longer than he had expected.

Maybe even years at this point. And that is rather horrifying.

‘’Hyung?,’’

The older hums and rolls his head to the side, a pair of bright eyes blinking up at him and it reminds him how the boy shouldn’t be here. _None_ of them deserve to be here, of course, but when he looks at Jisung the feeling amplifies by tenfold.

It’s like putting a pretty songbird in a cage. Like taking the sun and shoving it in a place where no one will even be able to see it.

‘’Are we going to die?,’’ the boy quietly asks, tightly holding onto Minho’s hand.

The million-dollar question. 

Minho sighs, his arms slipping away from the younger and somehow they are both _so_ in tune already that they move at the same time, Jisung shuffling and gripping onto the older’s shoulders and Minho tugging him into his lap facing him.

‘’I don’t know Sung,’’ the older replies, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair when the boy leans his head against his shoulder.

Minho doesn’t mention he is pretty sure they will, because the people who get pulled out never return and the older can hear the occasional screams coming from somewhere outside of the room. 

One plus one makes two.

‘’I’m scared,’’ the younger mutters into his neck, lips ghosting Minho’s skin, ‘’I don’t want to die,’’

‘’I know,’’ Minho whispers back.

The boy is silent and Minho can’t help but take a hold of Jisung’s face and guide his head up, ‘’I’m here, right? I will make sure you’ll be okay,’’

‘’Promise?,’’ Jisung asks as he lays his own hands over Minho’s, voice small and shaky and eyes restless as they rake over Minho’s face.

Minho doesn’t make promises he isn’t sure he can keep, doesn’t want to give false hope. But that doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?

‘’I promise,’’ the older confirms before gently pulling Jisung closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Totally impulsive but when he backs off, Jisung smiles prettily and despite the clear hint of sadness in his eyes, Minho finds himself distracted by the soft blush dusting the boy’s cheeks. It makes him look alive. The older appreciates that look.

‘’I promise,’’ Minho repeats almost inaudibly, ‘’I promise I will,’’

He sees Jisung tear up a little and a couple silently escape. Minho thumbs them away gently.

‘’Okay,’’ the boy finally whispers before he slowly moves to bury his face in the crook of Minho’s neck. 

The door opening is something that Minho doesn’t get even slightly bothered by. Or well, used to.

But now there is Jisung and the mere sound of footsteps stopping right outside is enough to make him reach out for the younger and tug him into his arms. He knows it won’t do much but there also isn’t much else he can do.

Maybe they should have put their blindfolds back on, but Minho had been so caught up in making Jisung laugh that he had missed all the tell-tale signs of someone coming.

It’s all too late anyways because the man is in the room already, hoovering over the two of them.

‘’Time to shine kid,’’

It all goes downhill pretty quick after that.

Minho doesn’t even have time to process the words when a hand reaches out and wraps around the younger’s bicep, the boy getting pulled to his feet harsh enough for him to almost keen forward with a startled yelp.

There is a rush of _something_ in Minho’s veins and he feels the way his heart skips a beat as a result. Minho doesn’t know what it is, but his brain suddenly screams at him, something it hasn’t done in a long time.

_Not Jisung… Not Jisung!_

His arms shoot out before he knows it, firmly wrapping around the boy’s waist and pulling him back down. The younger crashes into his lap and is quick to turn around in his lap and cling onto Minho’s neck, shaking like a leaf and clearly trying to keep himself from whimpering.

The figure looming over them looks somewhat surprised but absolutely furious nonetheless, freezing for a little while before he lets out an angered growl. Jisung flinches in his hold and Minho feels rapid puffs of air against his neck.

He wraps his arms around the boy even tighter and even though he knows that it probably won’t help Jisung breathe any better, he can’t seem to hold the boy close enough. 

It only lasts for maybe a handful of seconds though because before Minho can do anything, there is a swing and an open hand slapping him hard enough to make his ears ring and arms loosening their grip on the younger.

He somewhat hears Jisung letting out a heart-breaking screech into his ear and once Minho is able to process again, the younger gets pulled up and away for the second time, far out of his reach.

‘’Minho!,’’ Jisung yells as he gets pulled behind the man, tears now streaming down his face.

Then Minho gets a heavy kick to the jaw and he falls to the side with a pained grunt that gets lost in Jisung’s screaming. 

The ache is horrible and spreads through his whole head, poking behind his eye and making his jaw lock up. Normally he would be able to handle it, stay calm until the ache seized to some extent, but there is no way he can do that now.

He is panicking as the man turns back around and he tries to focus, but the ringing is just _so bad_ that his arms don’t even want to listen to him and stay limp.

Minho can only watch with a blurry vision as Jisung gets dragged away from him, big arms wrapped around the younger’s middle and keeping him from trashing out of their grip. 

He almost looks like a little kid, feet not even remotely reaching the ground and overall too small. Minho’s overwhelmed by the urge to _protect_ but his body isn’t fucking listening to him.

Jisung tries, he really tries, and it is heart-breaking when he gives up on his clawing at the arms around him and desperately reaches out for Minho instead, like the older is his last and only hope. Minho probably is and it feels terrible that he isn’t able to do anything.

‘’H-hyung! Please, hyung,’’ the boy chokes out.

Minho once again tries to push himself up, but his head is throbbing even more now and he feels like throwing up. He doesn’t know if it is because of the pain or the fact that Jisung is getting taken away from him, but he just can’t get himself up.

He hates it. He hates how weak he is, how defeated he already feels.

Not feels, _is_. Minho is utterly defeated when he sees Jisung giving up, throwing him one last desperate look before the large slab of metal closes.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, silent, unblinking and tears running down his face, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t feel the need to get up. The cold of the concrete slowly chills him to the bone again, erasing Jisung’s warmth, and there is something numbing about it.

At some point Minho hears gut-wrenching screaming and loud sobbing and he tries to block it out with his hands to his ears. It doesn’t help and can’t do anything but curl up and pray for it to stop.

_’S-stop! Please! It h-hurts…,’_

He doesn’t know whether he can actually hear it or if his brain is making the words up, but it makes him feel like his insides are shrivelling up anyways. It’s nauseating and he’d give anything to make sure Jisung is okay.

_’Hyung, Minho hyung!’_

It doesn’t last for a long time but when it slowly starts to die out, Minho feels his heart shattering all over the floor when he hears one last thing;

_’’I w-want Minho’’_

There are shouts telling the boy to shut up, followed by… nothing.

Minho cries himself to sleep.

A door opening, footsteps.

‘’Where’s Jisung?,’’ he manages to croak out, something he has been asking ever since the boy had been dragged away from him.

A piece of bread getting tossed to his feet, a bottle of water lands into his stomach.

‘’What did you do?,’’ is the follow-up question.

Again, no reply.

Good.

Minho doesn’t really want to know anyways, doesn’t want to know the details.

It doesn’t even matter anyways. There’s no point in knowing.

The cold in Minho’s bones returns.

Jisung never does.

And that is probably for the best.

Not for Minho, but at least the boy is in a better place now, how generic it may sound.

Minho can only pray to get there soon as well.

Till then he’ll just have to do with stale bread, blood-shot eyes and the lack of his tiny spark.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~_’’Last night another body was found near the Han-river, this time located under the Jamsu Bridge. The body found is thought to be twenty-year-old Han Jisung, who was reported missing by his roommate on the night of the fourteenth after a night out with his friends from college._ ~~
> 
> ~~_The police aren’t certain yet and have told reporters that identification is difficult due to severe mutilation and won’t make any official claims until the DNA results come back.  
>  With this being the seventh young male being found near the Han-river in the span of three years, the police have confirmed […]''_ ~~


End file.
